The Ressurection
by FireflyFanatic3x
Summary: Written on request: After Arthur died, what happened to Merlin? And when will Arthur rise again? Oneshot, 1900 words. Nothing explicit...


**A/N – this fic was written for ****-Golden Heart****- by request. Congradulations on first prize! A simple one-shot on the King's ressurection... 1500 words.**

_**The Ressurection**_

"_Long live the queen! Long live the queen!_"

The chorus of the people echoed around the great hall, but there was a definitive sadness to it. The words hung in the air – painful and unwelcome. The newly crowned Queen of Albion, Guinevere Pendragon, sat on her throne. The chair beside her, Arthur's throne, was empty, and his absence was screaming out to her like a wail piercing the night. She never even got to see his body...

Merlin was standing at the back of the hall, unable to bear looking her in the eye. But she caught his gaze for one moment, and that was enough. He seemed more wounded than her. The pain in his eys was visible, even from so far away, and, unable to bear anymore, Merlin turned and left the hall.

He walked through the corridors and out into the courtyard. He kept going, through the citadel and into the lower town, past the guards until he had left the great city behind. He never stopped...

Melrin never returned to Camelot. He grew old, and eventually, through his own yearning for solitude in his grief, and from the passing of time, he grew old alone. Soon Gaius passed; mortal, like the rest, boyond the veil and to whatever lies ahead. Eventually Guinevere too fell victim to her own mortality. She never remarried, and with no apparent heir to claim the throne, as the years wore on, all of Camelot eventually passed out of memory and time.

The lower town lay abandoned to the elements and invasion of animals and humans alike. The citadel walls became overgrown with plants, and eventually even the great castle itself fell into ruins; large pieces of crumbling walls and rotting foundations that became forgotten by all. Albion's history, all that happened to Arthur, Morgana, Merlin and the others, passed into Legend, long forgotten by the people who'd once been a part of it.

But not Merlin. He had continued walking, constantly travelling from one place to another, but always finding himself back in Wales, where the great nation of Camelot once stood. He had lived for over a thousand years, watching the earth change as its people evolved and he stayed the same.

But now he was back, once again, to Albion. He could feel it in the ground, in the air all around him... the earth was changing. Many unfortunate events had unfolded over the past thousand years, and every time it turned sour, he'd hope and wait, _long_ for his King again. Every great and terrible war that unfolded, he'd think – is this not the time for Arthur to return?

When the horror of the War to end all Wars unfolded before his eyes, he looked up to the sky and silently prayed for Arthur to come back. When he stood with his fellow men in the trenches, defending them as he felt was his duty, he would sit alone for hours and wait, determined that Arthur would return. When the land was invaded, when the Empire was built on the crumbling ashes of other cultures they'd crushed underfoot, he waited; he waited for Arthur. When great disasters came, when famines ravished a land, when the entire world seemed to be crumbling all around him – still, he waited.

Merlin had been around for a long time, and he'd seen a lot. He had lived a hundred lifetimes and waited patiently for his King to rise again. And when, with every disaster that came and passed, his hopes would be dashed, as his King was nowhere to be found. Sometimes Merlin doubted the prophecy, knowing full-well that the future is an illusive thing that only reveals itself in the most inconvenient ways, tricking you into thinking one truth is certain, only to turn out to be much the opposite. But these years had also given him wisdom; they'd granted him an unprecedented patience. He'd learned the art of keeping hope alive, in the most hopeless of times; he knew how to be satisfied with little, but just how much to strive towards more. He was patient, kind, but never forgot his power, and above all else – he waited, still so faithfully after all these years, for his King.

Now he was back, to the very place Arthur had been sent off into the afterlife, to Avalon. Merlin had of course constantly ensured that no harm came to the lake, or its island, but as he'd soon learned – Avalon had a magic of its own to protect those who were laid to rest there. No one had ever ventured there, despite the human tendancy to explore and invade, and Merlin had soon become convinced that nobody else was even aware it existed!

But he could see it. He could see it clearly, as the fog parted, and he stared out across the lake and towards the great island in the distance. He felt... called back there. The earth felt different; something had changed, and the one thing he knew for certain – he had to get the shore.

As his feet squelched against the wet ground beneath his feet, Merlin edged closer to the water and stared out to the island that lay ahead. He smild vaguely as he stood in anticipation, amongst the trees. He could feel the magic here; the prescence of that ancient force, woven into the fabric of the earth and all life. The trees bent their branches towards him, as though desperate to reach out and touch the familiar power he brought with him, to connect to their old friend. He muttered a few words of the Old Religion.

_Settle my friends, _he closed his eyes as the words left his lips in another language just as familiar to him as his first, _Be still. I'm here._

"What do you want?" he asked calmly, looking out to the lake. "I felt your calling – I'm here now. Why did you summon me here? Is it time?"

So many times he'd come here, expectant, hopeful. He'd often wait hours, once even days. When things got particularly difficult, when he was sure it was time, he used to come and wait, as though he could raise Arthur again by _willing_ it to be time.

Now an old and patient man, Merlin asked the question again, calmly, in a soft voice. "Is it time?"

As he gazed out to the lake, in search of some kind of sign, the mist began to clear and the old man noticed a distrubance in the water. Not so far from the shore, the water was stirring. The longer he looked, the more violent the waves became, and bubbles began to appear, forcing their way to the surface.

A sharp breath caught in Merlin's throat as he watched in awe; the waves began to whip up, forming a shape above the surface of the lake. A wind gathered, blowing all the way from the Island to the shore, where the trees began to creak as they strained against it.

The shape formed above the lake, was bigger now – a large figure with what appeared to be a torso with two arms. As the water spun, _weaving_ under a spell, a head was formed and Merlin could do nothing to contain his emotions as the water melted away under the wind, splashing everywhere. What was left behind was a man – tall and sturdy. Merlin would recognise that blonde hair and muscular build anywhere...

As the droplets of water, now carried by the wind all the way to shore, washed over him, Merlin's appearance began to fade away. The long and bushy beard diappeared, and all the years of age worn upon his face and body too vanished, leaving behind a strong and vitalised Merlin, appearing in his youth again. Even the trees that lined the shore lost their dead leaves; crumbling into nothing as the wind rushed through the landscape until all that was left was the earth as it should be – young and full of life again.

As a tear streamed down his cheek, a large and uncontained smile spread across Merlin's face. Arthur, who was now standing just as he had once, long ago – tall, young and very much alive, raised his head. He opened his eyes and turned around as he became aware of his surroundings. And then his eyes fell upon that old, familiar face and suddenly it didn't matter anymore. He had no idea where he was or what was going on, but of one thing he was sure – _Merlin_.

Rushing forward, splashing against the water that reached up to his waist, Arthur strode toward him. As Merlin too began to take steps towards his King, Arthur picked up feet, and soon they were both running. They met in the shallows, and before Arthur could open his mouth to say anything, Merlin lunged forward and wrapped his arms tightly around him.

For far longer than Arthur would have antipated, Merlin didn't let go, and when Arthur moved to return the embrace, Merlin only gripped him tighter. When, eventually, his old servant loosened his grip, Arthur looked down at him only to see his face stained with tears.

Unable to find words, Merlin simply gazed up into Arthur's eyes, breathing heavily as he made no attempts to contain his sobbing.

"Merlin!" Arthur exclaimed, "What... what's wrong?"

Then Merlin, overcome with emotion, embraced him again.

"Merlin..." Arthur mumbled, but this time, a little more concerned, affectionately held him until he leg go again.

"Arthur..." Merlin breathed as he relinquished his grip and looked up once again at his King. He broke out into a huge and goofy smile, and even amongst his continued sobbing, managed to get a few more words out. "You have no idea how long I've waited for you! I... I even thought at times that maybe it wasn't... maybe you wouldn't... but I still had hope. And... you're here! You're finally here! After all this time..."

"Merlin..." Arthur stumbled over his words in shock, "I... I died." as the realisation of what had happened and the impossibility of it all dawned on him, he asked, "How long has it been?"

Merlin made an attempt at wiping away the tears with his hand as he replied, "A long time."

"Why have I come back?"

It was a very good question. Kilgarah had told him that Arthur would return when Albion needed him most. Merlin may have needed him many times before, but if all that had happened in the past thousand years had not been enough to ressurect the great King, then what terrible events must be about to unfold to warrant his return? It was a terrifying thought...

But it didn't matter. Even after all he'd seen, Merlin wasn't afraid. "Because we need you now." he replied.

As Arthur's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, Merlin smiled reassuringly. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. Because Arthur was here now, and whatever was to come, they would face, as they always had, _together_...


End file.
